


Melody

by Pita Pan (Lizlow)



Category: Ozmafia!! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizlow/pseuds/Pita%20Pan
Summary: A flute, what a harmonious play in the distance, dancing throughout the town, installing the peace, echoing the gentle balance of what it means to sit in positions such as theirs. So much… So much has happened, but she, she has found love, hasn’t she?





	Melody

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Fuka blog on tumblr almost exactly two years ago, and I really do not remember where I had been going with this, but I still sort of like the feeling of the writing, somehow, so may as well transfer it over here!

A flute, what a harmonious play in the distance, dancing throughout the town, installing the peace, echoing the gentle balance of what it means to sit in positions such as theirs. So much… So much has happened, but she, she has found love, hasn’t she?  


Does he love her?  


This tune, it continues, light and quick, conducted in specific keys, and he, her dear, tenses up, shoulders raised and stiff. Whatever is it about this that stresses him so? It is then she decides to massage then, to stand behind him with care, to try to help relieve his troubles. He can be happy; for all the help he has given, there should be give back. Beside him, she stays, as she truly would with anyone she would have fallen in love with.  


Despite any flaws, she… is home.  


“What’s wrong, Robin?” she asks. What ails? What echoes in his ears and causes shaking fears? Gunshots to the beat, no power within the soles of his feet, no… she’ll not fall again. There are things that can never be let go of, even… even now.  


Her eyes speak of love, undivided and unwavering. His mince affection with complexion. While there had been resolution, there is still hesitation. Worry.  


No matter what, she never displays doubt. She sees them, the residents, even if their eyes narrow at the doctor sometimes, they rely still. But no one but she can always his face, his features that had been sealed away to repent.  


“I’m with you.”  


Yet, every word she says plays into the rhythm, the _sweet sound_ of the music melody they hear. It’s almost as if she, too, is singing, just like…  


Before any such thoughts can be completed, her head tilts, and her lips part again, “Please, do no work yourself so ragged you become sick!” Although, perhaps, she should follow her own advice. Even with the lively pout upon on her lips, her eyes, soft pink as they may shine, are bloodshot, her face paler than it should be. Times can be quite busy, quite stressful, and she’s been feeling faint, sleep troubling her too much.  


“Please rest for a moment. We’ve no patients now, so it should be fine.”  


Fuka’s heels tap against the hard, clinic floor to the feel of the song as she moves to make up some tea. Careful, careful, so that she doesn’t misplace or miss her aim and burn her fingers. “Oh, Robin, today is their visit, but… I’ll be sure to meet them so you can relax for a bit.”  


She places the tea in front of him, pressing her cheek to his. She’s performed check ups enough now, so she can handle it, unless something major looks to be wrong, but it shouldn’t be.

But, does he want her to do so? Does he trust _them_? The ones that still cause trouble, the still reflect _his_ existence… no, he’d rather they handle them together. She’s so tired, as is he, she’d have no energy to combat the bark of the twins.  


Yet, that stern look has him beat. Fuka claps her hands together, satisfied, flitting to the other end of the clinic o prepare everything else she needs. Soon, Robin decides a brief retire to his quarters are in order, simply not to desire to step in.  


That’s right, he’s worried. What are these feelings? Are they real, or figments? Truths, or hopes to see the old within the new? Does he live for the present and the future, like she does, or is he still stuck?  


“Good afternoon, Scarlet,” Fuka greets as the red-cloak young man comes in, “Oh, is it just you? What about Hansel and Gretel?”  


“In a few days for them, Miss Fuka,” Scarlet sighs, “They refused to come.”  


“Just like them,” Fuka laughs, “There are still nails in the floor from their last gift.”  


“Right…”  


Scarlet furrows his eyebrows, just after standing tall with proper measures. “No height change,” Fuka reports, “But you’re looking taller anyway!”  


Is something off about her? Why is Scarlet looking at her that way?  


Why, the music is starting to overwhelm now, she’s dizzy, off balance. No, no, must regain, must do what she is meant to, to help out her dearest Robin.  


“…It’s not the same..!” Scarlet frowns, but he’s got something to say. Something that is on his mind, and while it may be over stepping bounds the doctor may not enjoy breached, “But… Miss Fuka? Are you happy?”  


“Hap…py..?” Fuka repeats.  


Now it’s getting louder, stronger, the tune is. It plays, strings winding and vibrating, air pushing and pulling, it dances, it dances, and Fuka’s voice matches it still.

“Of course, I’m happy! I… love…”  


Drums clash, now for the climatic part of this melodious orchestra. She’s faint, falling, descending, and crashing down.  


There’s rush, yelling, but with a blissful smile, she misses it all, landing in warm arms, recognizing who it is, less and less.  


When her eyes open, lashes fluttering as they process the light that almost feels unfamiliar to her. How many hours had past? Days?  


“I’m… sor…ry, but where am I?”  


“Home… Don’t worry, Fuka,” Robin says, placing her journal on her lap, “As a doctor, it’s my job to help you remember.”  


“Remember..? D-Doctor Crow… what am I forgetting?”  


Everything, their lives, their struggles, Maybe it’s better this way. She can revitalize, forget the grief he’s caused her. He… deserves to be alone, isn’t that right? Her gaze no longer glimmers with the undying affection she’s given him in the past, only glinting with concern, confusion.  


Is this temporary? Is this permanent? Fuka is a glass needle, sewing her strong connections, powerful, but delicate. Like she could shatter. The clouds contained in her stare tell a tale of woe, of a lost soul whose choices and fate left her in his arms, even if she hardly recognizes their relationship anymore… somehow, she is not fleeing.  


This isn’t the first time, but it’s getting worse. They leave, then come back. It’s… troubling, always when that… that song plays.

Somehow, the world is saying something.  


Is this a divine reset? An attempt to make him pay for the sins he’s always known he couldn’t erase? A little dove, caged, he can allow her to be happy, for happiness cannot be at his side. He wants to be selfish, wants to hold onto her, now that she’s sworn a life to him, now that he’s understood life at her side.  


“Your life… with me,” he says, slipping his mask off for a moment for a moment to smile at her, to caress her cheek, before he puts it back on, “Now please. You’ve had quite a day, so I advise you to rest.”  


No one needs to see his face, his truth, but her again. So as she grips the blankets, watching him return to the clinic floor, there’s things that must be done.  


Robin Hood, an unfortunate man, finds the melody contained again, within the room, of the girl whose memories are fleeting, slipping. It is… different from the who he’s lost. He cannot… cannot let go.  


How long does he have with her? A mere human lifetime, or eternity? What does the chirping of the little bird say?  


_Fuka, you are remarkable… foolish, but an enigma. What am I to do with you?_


End file.
